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"dui" poems
if you can be anything be kind. we are all just humans. we laugh at cute cat videos, hum little songs, eat raw cookie dough and laugh when it makes one giant cookie mass. life is made of these moments. people deserve so much love. how often do we remind our families we love them? is it often enough? how many days do we think only of ourselves. human nature is beautiful and terrible and stunning. somehow hate seeps through the cracks of time and makes us bitter and angry. and it's fine to be angry. just don't let it consume you. remember sometimes that there are old folks out there who still tease each other, there are babies who giggle when you play peekaboo, there are dogs with slobbery tongues who need head scratches, there are children spinning and laughing when they fall. humams are important. we are special. even people we say we hate. i thought i hated my mom but i know she cares and i have seen her run when she thought i was in danger. i have seen her break into tears at getting a DUI and trying to explain to a child that she might lose her job. being human is tough. our hearts harden trying to protect ourselves but we end up locking people out. in trying to avoid being hurt we hurt the ones we love. please never forget that each person you meet has more than just facet. people are stunningly complex. don't judge someome til you've walked two moons in their moccasins. humans are worth so much. i don't know what i am saying but i mean it with all of me. i love you. you deserve so much.
0
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 10:45 AM UTC
remember that you are loved
if you can be anything be kind. we are all just humans. we laugh at cute cat videos, hum little songs, eat raw cookie dough and laugh when it makes one giant cookie mass. life is made of these moments. people deserve so much love. how often do we remind our families we love them? is it often enough? how many days do we think only of ourselves. human nature is beautiful and terrible and stunning. somehow hate seeps through the cracks of time and makes us bitter and angry. and it's fine to be angry. just don't let it consume you. remember sometimes that there are old folks out there who still tease each other, there are babies who giggle when you play peekaboo, there are dogs with slobbery tongues who need head scratches, there are children spinning and laughing when they fall. humams are important. we are special. even people we say we hate. i thought i hated my mom but i know she cares and i have seen her run when she thought i was in danger. i have seen her break into tears at getting a DUI and trying to explain to a child that she might lose her job. being human is tough. our hearts harden trying to protect ourselves but we end up locking people out. in trying to avoid being hurt we hurt the ones we love. please never forget that each person you meet has more than just facet. people are stunningly complex. don't judge someome til you've walked two moons in their moccasins. humans are worth so much. i don't know what i am saying but i mean it with all of me. i love you. you deserve so much.
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40
I've been digging through this dumpster far too long trying to get to the bottom of it all. Slimey sweet stench there's my first love my first pipe my last light my first rush my last gush my first bet my last buck "the game ain't over until the rent money's gone." I am down a deep hole and my only tool is a shovel I've got that one choice but to go down down down. Drunk and dial Drunk and poetry how did I get here how do I get out? I'm a spiritual wasteland connected to no one connected to nothing My drug My man My woman My casino The rush comes first The numbness comes last until death, insanity or jail is within my grasp. I do what I do But I am allergic too you understand when I do what I do I break out in handcuffs jail cells strapped down to beds looking around longing for my dumpster and what I might have found. 1st Step 12th Step I've done them all though the 13th Step I liked the best Sponsors have come and gone Spiritual awakenings have all been done I am back in this dumpster where I had begun. There is an exquisite mystery at the heart of it all the internal shift happens an inside job The 21 year old's first black out enough is enough The 60 year old on his fifth DUI going out for one more round. It is true I have seen it many times Recovery can be found Hope restored Wisdom in these halls Peace within these walls The dumpster closed and left behind A ladder falls and arrives acceptance and gratitude combine as they say "One day at a time."
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Feb 11, 2014
Feb 11, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
"We'll Gladly Refund Your Misery" A Tale of Relapse and Recovery
Like a drug taken for a quarter century, this writing doesn't help like it use to... See, I'm starting to feel like it's working against me Holding me here in pain and misery Cleverly disguised as creativity I use to lie and say it was a way to get rid of all this negativity But I've spilled so much blood and tears onto stationary ...and not even purely metaphorically... I should be completely empty Hell, I think I might be I think it's moved onto draining my energy Can I still call this writing therapy? Is it healthy or does it keep me from a new me? Holding tightly but in spite of me Hiding a different side of a complex personality A new level of maturity Is it actually helping any? Today it's hard to say, but maybe Unfortunately, it's something I'm good at, a skill I enjoy and I don't have many So I've begun to notice I look at it differently It was suppose to help me let go of the painful unpleasantry held in many a memory But it woke a part of my ego that I didn't know would grip so tightly It might have been a mistake to rely on it so heavily It's no longer moving along the story No cautionary tales to learn from because they never become history It becomes a bookmark that I don't use properly I never move it to the page I left off on and now, I must admit openly, I'm doing it purposely I keep the worst of me right next to me, close as a frienemy All because I notice I DON'T write when I'm happy And I like to write so I dance around emotions strategically I don't know if it's anything worth saying but writing is calling and drawing me in closely A ghostly presence that when I look closely I see my identity It hasn't always been but is now a big part of me But does it want all of me? Can't say either way with any certainty No AH-HA moment, no clarity, only a death grip on disparity So I recklessly walk the line of happy and tragedy Like a DUI test on the side of the freeway, drunken pageantry Eyes closed usually No thought of mine or anyone else's safety Dangerously close to calamity And I just worry ©2024
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Jan 3, 2024
Jan 3, 2024 at 6:32 PM UTC
~•§•~ I Just Worry ~•§•~
Like a drug taken for a quarter century, this writing doesn't help like it use to... See, I'm starting to feel like it's working against me Holding me here in pain and misery Cleverly disguised as creativity I use to lie and say it was a way to get rid of all this negativity But I've spilled so much blood and tears onto stationary ...and not even purely metaphorically... I should be completely empty Hell, I think I might be I think it's moved onto draining my energy Can I still call this writing therapy? Is it healthy or does it keep me from a new me? Holding tightly but in spite of me Hiding a different side of a complex personality A new level of maturity Is it actually helping any? Today it's hard to say, but maybe Unfortunately, it's something I'm good at, a skill I enjoy and I don't have many So I've begun to notice I look at it differently It was suppose to help me let go of the painful unpleasantry held in many a memory But it woke a part of my ego that I didn't know would grip so tightly It might have been a mistake to rely on it so heavily It's no longer moving along the story No cautionary tales to learn from because they never become history It becomes a bookmark that I don't use properly I never move it to the page I left off on and now, I must admit openly, I'm doing it purposely I keep the worst of me right next to me, close as a frienemy All because I notice I DON'T write when I'm happy And I like to write so I dance around emotions strategically I don't know if it's anything worth saying but writing is calling and drawing me in closely A ghostly presence that when I look closely I see my identity It hasn't always been but is now a big part of me But does it want all of me? Can't say either way with any certainty No AH-HA moment, no clarity, only a death grip on disparity So I recklessly walk the line of happy and tragedy Like a DUI test on the side of the freeway, drunken pageantry Eyes closed usually No thought of mine or anyone else's safety Dangerously close to calamity And I just worry ©2024
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43
Let's Hold Up Our Glasses And Make A Toast Here's To The Liars, The Cheaters, The Hatrers, And The Women Beaters   Here's To The Feet Draggers, Body Baggers, The Backstabbers, And The Joint Draggers Here's To The DUI Kills, People Tryin To Keep It "Trill", People Who Don't Reach To Pay The Bill, And To The People Who Need A Refill Here's To The Governments Killing Their Own, Here's To Telemarketers Who Blow Up My Phone, To The People In My Life Who Keep Breaking Me, To That One Boy With A Heart Cold As Stone Here's To The Chemistry Tests, Being Enternally Upset, Enternally Recked, Here's To The People Who Scream In My Face Here's To All The Pain, Heres To The Knifes Which Have Cut A Vein, To All The Guys Who Just Wanna Piece Of *** Heres To All The People I Dread In My Math Class As You Can See.. I'm Not Even Holding A Glass
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Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 8:43 AM UTC
Cheers
***** whiskey, *** Turns out they don't make good dye At least not for a bunny with a DUI Still to make things worse this was his first year on the job Life in prison, it's not easy With so few places to hide your eggs And the people aren't so friendly To be blunt, eggs end up where they shouldn't be ***** ink, dirt Stained the bunnies fur unnaturally This holiday no candy baskets were delivered I'd like to see you hop with a ball and chain Two pictures in one day Newspaper headlines and a mug shot Easter's not so pretty with a black eye Drunk, resisting arrest, what a sad way for Easter to die
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Mar 18, 2012
Mar 18, 2012 at 11:10 PM UTC
Alcoholic Easter
I think about returns the only reason I left us to recreate myself I'd like to stay the same but as time goes on I have to change with the times I always change it up my workout bores me I need a fresh different workout Relationships get stale right away they don't see into my world they see ways to change my world take the vision away to mold into theirs Mma is great I take an *** kicking to make others better I coach I hear others frustrations but would rather do something about it than hearing them complain I've never got a DUI I got silly drunk but no longer want that rep I'm not being with anyone lays ting is degrading after a while I do have standards I don't aim low or take what I could get I'm struggling for a career not a job that brings me up then demotes you I'm one who works with and inspires kids not trying have my own I'm not who you see but take time to know me
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Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 2:03 PM UTC
Ineract
Sign here and,here Authorized personnel only Exit… A sign of distress on his face The normal signs of distress? No. Signal the white flag high Suboxone and methadone Romney and Ryan The county fairgrounds… “Lookout for that fox!” DUI you cant afford it DUI CRACK you cant afford it Hand signals communicate UFO Conference? No SIGNS of UFO’s tonight “Where’s your sign?” What would my sign look like? Winding road, next 4 miles
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Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 11:18 PM UTC
Post No Signs
Nothing is going to protect us from the human condition We can have fortune and fame Be on the top of our game We can be a rocker in Lost Wages We can be a woman with a small child Trying to do welfare to work We can dance the tango with a Friday night **** We can be busted for another dui We can be the head of the corporation We can even be Paul McCartney Michael Jordan Kennedy may be our name But nothing is going to protect us from the human condition I've gambled and won I've gambled and lost Millionaire wives die of cancer Joanie's Johnnie gets SARS Steve Jobs takes the last dive. A truck driver falls asleep A thirty seconds delay winds up catastrophe So sorry! Nothing protects us from the human condition There are mine fields all around us, most we don't even see We can be in Mosul We can be in Aleppo We can be in Somalia We can be in Mozambique One ember, a conflagration One breath of air, a hurricane One drop of rain, water everywhere Twisted Bill Cosby his son murdered while changing a tire Your name can be Whitney Houston mother and daughter have died Ronald Reagan's dementia he didn't remember a thing The list of the names it never really ends all that fame power and fortune All of the pain loss and suffering of me and you Bad moods ain't seen nothing yet There is no protection from the human condition You can set me up another one I'm drinking to "how it goes " I hide out I come out I'm probably like you I don't know what I'm supposed to do except find slices of delight when able There is no protection from the human condition.
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Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 10:19 PM UTC
The Human Condition
Nothing is going to protect us from the human condition We can have fortune and fame Be on the top of our game We can be a rocker in Lost Wages We can be a woman with a small child Trying to do welfare to work We can dance the tango with a Friday night **** We can be busted for another dui We can be the head of the corporation We can even be Paul McCartney Michael Jordan Kennedy may be our name But nothing is going to protect us from the human condition I've gambled and won I've gambled and lost Millionaire wives die of cancer Joanie's Johnnie gets SARS Steve Jobs takes the last dive. A truck driver falls asleep A thirty seconds delay winds up catastrophe So sorry! Nothing protects us from the human condition There are mine fields all around us, most we don't even see We can be in Mosul We can be in Aleppo We can be in Somalia We can be in Mozambique One ember, a conflagration One breath of air, a hurricane One drop of rain, water everywhere Twisted Bill Cosby his son murdered while changing a tire Your name can be Whitney Houston mother and daughter have died Ronald Reagan's dementia he didn't remember a thing The list of the names it never really ends all that fame power and fortune All of the pain loss and suffering of me and you Bad moods ain't seen nothing yet There is no protection from the human condition You can set me up another one I'm drinking to "how it goes " I hide out I come out I'm probably like you I don't know what I'm supposed to do except find slices of delight when able There is no protection from the human condition.
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58
I saw you today for the first time in years. You were stopped at a red light and I pulled up behind you. You were driving his car with him in the passenger seat due to his dui arrest from a few weeks ago. Your windows were rolled down and I could hear him screaming at you about some nonsense. You were silent as you looked at him, eyes off the road, hoping for an end to the noise. I saw the tears streaming down your cheeks in the reflection of your rearview mirror and watched as you put your head down on the steering wheel in an act of hopelessness and defeat. I guess I finally know what he's got that I don't. I guess now I finally know why he's so much better than I am.
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Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 10:12 PM UTC
Maybe If I'd Raised My Fists Along With My Voice
I looked at the room broken bottles blood fragments of clothes. maybe a tooth from somebody not fast are to drunk to get outta the way of a conversation turned bad. The juke box had almost made it threw but it just had to play that one song that caused it to become a target for a flying cue ball. And I herd someone speaking to the toilet I thought maybe I wasnt that hungry after all. As to what caused the riot slash the human tornado of fun I cannot say But in my opinion that jukebox had it coming always playing the wrong songs at the right time no one likes a ******** And that drag queen could sure throw a mean left hook. While looking fierce and lip sinking to madonna at the same time that my friends take true talent . Seems as though the register had went on vacation but they left the wild turkey and pretzels thank god happy hour was almost apon us. And theres nothing worse than telling a proffesional drinker as myself theres no snacks it's like tellinga kid theres no santa claus. And that big fat guy in the red suit with his little dwarfs were really just some of momies friends. I always wondred why santa was so into getting the crap beat outta him by a woman in a latex outfit calling herself mistress Claus. Yes coffee always made things better mixed with some of my personal corn whiskey yeah grandpa may went insane and herd voices from drinking the stuff but at least he always had someone to talk to. As I looked at the chaos that was my headquarters memories came to me in a flood the booth were I met my first wife. that same booth were i caught her with my best friend and worst enemy and santa i swear he gets around. So much for online dating dam you napster. I should just stick with street walkers and circus people. And I think after my tweenty first DUI that it was good i never had a license to start with. cause i really hate losing anything. It's a shame about my mind. So really other than this little get togather turned riot turned love in turned back to brawl turned into big kid slumber party. It was after the jukebox had to put in it's two cents that it all turned to **** For nothing kills the mood worse than a bad song at the right time. Love always Dr Gonzo
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Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 3:43 PM UTC
When It All Turned To ****
I looked at the room broken bottles blood fragments of clothes. maybe a tooth from somebody not fast are to drunk to get outta the way of a conversation turned bad. The juke box had almost made it threw but it just had to play that one song that caused it to become a target for a flying cue ball. And I herd someone speaking to the toilet I thought maybe I wasnt that hungry after all. As to what caused the riot slash the human tornado of fun I cannot say But in my opinion that jukebox had it coming always playing the wrong songs at the right time no one likes a ******** And that drag queen could sure throw a mean left hook. While looking fierce and lip sinking to madonna at the same time that my friends take true talent . Seems as though the register had went on vacation but they left the wild turkey and pretzels thank god happy hour was almost apon us. And theres nothing worse than telling a proffesional drinker as myself theres no snacks it's like tellinga kid theres no santa claus. And that big fat guy in the red suit with his little dwarfs were really just some of momies friends. I always wondred why santa was so into getting the crap beat outta him by a woman in a latex outfit calling herself mistress Claus. Yes coffee always made things better mixed with some of my personal corn whiskey yeah grandpa may went insane and herd voices from drinking the stuff but at least he always had someone to talk to. As I looked at the chaos that was my headquarters memories came to me in a flood the booth were I met my first wife. that same booth were i caught her with my best friend and worst enemy and santa i swear he gets around. So much for online dating dam you napster. I should just stick with street walkers and circus people. And I think after my tweenty first DUI that it was good i never had a license to start with. cause i really hate losing anything. It's a shame about my mind. So really other than this little get togather turned riot turned love in turned back to brawl turned into big kid slumber party. It was after the jukebox had to put in it's two cents that it all turned to **** For nothing kills the mood worse than a bad song at the right time. Love always Dr Gonzo
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36
you used to buy the case before the rest of us had the ***** you walked right in to that asian market on 3rd and placed the beer on the counter they once asked for your license you told them you had a dui they never questioned you again
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Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 1:07 PM UTC
I drink to your memory friend
This is the song of a Dreamer. You would be hard-pressed to find A more likable person. He is one of a kind. He moved to California; From south of the border he came-- A four-year-old with his family. Futuro, we'll say, was his name. Futuro's father and mother Worked very hard to provide A good life for their children-- Something that they'd been denied. Schooling was very important. Futuro strove to excel. He wanted his parents to see him And his three siblings do well. His college graduation Made his parents so proud. The smiles on their faces were something-- The biggest smiles in the crowd. Futuro landed employment. Later things went awry When a cop pulled him over And gave him a DUI. That's when the nightmare started Futuro was able to see What it was like to be treated Like a detainee. Belongings were confiscated. His hands and feet were chained, As if he were a convict Who had to be restrained. They gave him no information And moved him from place to place. Each detention center Was an utter disgrace. Conditions were atrocious. The rooms were damp and cold. The food was barely edible After you scraped off the mold. Thanks to our heartless leaders. Thanks to the CCA.° We have detention centers Where people are treated this way. Such centers often become A two- or three-year address For many detainees caught in A bureaucratic mess. These for-profit prisons, Based on what we know, Are an assault on our freedom. Let's face it: they've got to go. When we civilized people Treat human beings like this-- Worse than we treat an animal-- There is something amiss. Futuro, well, he was lucky. He was released on bail. Now his fate is in limbo. At least he's no longer in jail. Must he hide in the shadows? Must he be on the run? What will it take for Futuro To walk in the light of the sun? Give Futuro your blessings. Give the hopeful your praise. May our eyes be opened. May we see brighter days. (2-24-17) By Bob B °Corrections Corporation of America
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Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 9:14 PM UTC
A Ballad of a Dreamer (Un Corrido de un Dreamer)
This is the song of a Dreamer. You would be hard-pressed to find A more likable person. He is one of a kind. He moved to California; From south of the border he came-- A four-year-old with his family. Futuro, we'll say, was his name. Futuro's father and mother Worked very hard to provide A good life for their children-- Something that they'd been denied. Schooling was very important. Futuro strove to excel. He wanted his parents to see him And his three siblings do well. His college graduation Made his parents so proud. The smiles on their faces were something-- The biggest smiles in the crowd. Futuro landed employment. Later things went awry When a cop pulled him over And gave him a DUI. That's when the nightmare started Futuro was able to see What it was like to be treated Like a detainee. Belongings were confiscated. His hands and feet were chained, As if he were a convict Who had to be restrained. They gave him no information And moved him from place to place. Each detention center Was an utter disgrace. Conditions were atrocious. The rooms were damp and cold. The food was barely edible After you scraped off the mold. Thanks to our heartless leaders. Thanks to the CCA.° We have detention centers Where people are treated this way. Such centers often become A two- or three-year address For many detainees caught in A bureaucratic mess. These for-profit prisons, Based on what we know, Are an assault on our freedom. Let's face it: they've got to go. When we civilized people Treat human beings like this-- Worse than we treat an animal-- There is something amiss. Futuro, well, he was lucky. He was released on bail. Now his fate is in limbo. At least he's no longer in jail. Must he hide in the shadows? Must he be on the run? What will it take for Futuro To walk in the light of the sun? Give Futuro your blessings. Give the hopeful your praise. May our eyes be opened. May we see brighter days. (2-24-17) By Bob B °Corrections Corporation of America
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70
There he goes! He's quite a sight! He's an Ace... a STAR! The life of him! It's 3 at night He's just pulled from the bar He'll blind you... ***** your light Anywhere you are Is he cool?... or a blight He'll **** you with his car.... Rattletrap Cadillac He's bad to the bone Rattletrap Cadillac He goes it alone Rattletrap Cadillac He should be goin' home Rattletrap Cadillac He'll hit you... then he's GONE. He just got his SSI So he's good to go Drinks as much as he can buy Hard liquor, don't you know Has to give driving a try And he don't go slow When it comes to DUI He star's up the *SHOW! [chorus]* The Grim Reaper on the road He got drunk & stank He ain't scared... a gun to load And he ain't shootin' blanks Jail may be his abode If he weren't so rank As to hit, and then just GO Cuz he drives a tank! Rattletrap Cadillac He's bad... he's NATIONWIDE! Rattletrap Cadillac With Jack Daniels on his side Rattletrap Cadillac Because he won't decide To hit some trees... *or give up his KEYS AND GIVE UP HIS PRIDE!.*** SøuŁSurvivør (C) 4/18/2017
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Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 2:51 PM UTC
Rattletrap Cadillac
I am there Wishing that if I pressed my fingers to your lips I could understand the broken Braille of your breath When your throat locks in the noise Gentle butterfly gut Fanning flames over burning cinderblocks in your belly I am there When you wished the moon in a rearview mirror Heading west Wondering if you really could go far enough to see its dark side When you wanted to turn back I was there When she drank razorblades And Tylenol ink Into a botched suicide note I was there This is the journey When he wondered when he could hold somebody again Like a waterbed full of blood Without the motion sickness I was there Every moment y’all Of your ***** sacred I want to be there So when you see that this place is so big And you are so small And our souls might be stardust and minerals Burning blue so far away At least you’re not alone Your body is built for love She said Beer breathed and true I smiled I was there Kiss me with your car parts DUI this knee buckle I want to be tried and arrested Spit out and spanked And I will still kneel before you And praise all that is good in you Because you are holy Every moment of you is holy I was there Begging to be baptized by your presence Because in a place so big I don’t want to feel so alone anymore I want to kiss you I want to kiss you Like you are better Than everything you’ve ever done You are I was there When the world inside your breastplate Spun natural disaster And sunshine Anvil remorse And sweet laughter When I held you Any of you And our worlds Vibrated a conversation only our souls could understand I was there And all we could speak was “LOVE” All we could speak was “Us”
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Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 4:21 PM UTC
Becoming Spiritual; Or All We Could Speak Was Love
I am there Wishing that if I pressed my fingers to your lips I could understand the broken Braille of your breath When your throat locks in the noise Gentle butterfly gut Fanning flames over burning cinderblocks in your belly I am there When you wished the moon in a rearview mirror Heading west Wondering if you really could go far enough to see its dark side When you wanted to turn back I was there When she drank razorblades And Tylenol ink Into a botched suicide note I was there This is the journey When he wondered when he could hold somebody again Like a waterbed full of blood Without the motion sickness I was there Every moment y’all Of your ***** sacred I want to be there So when you see that this place is so big And you are so small And our souls might be stardust and minerals Burning blue so far away At least you’re not alone Your body is built for love She said Beer breathed and true I smiled I was there Kiss me with your car parts DUI this knee buckle I want to be tried and arrested Spit out and spanked And I will still kneel before you And praise all that is good in you Because you are holy Every moment of you is holy I was there Begging to be baptized by your presence Because in a place so big I don’t want to feel so alone anymore I want to kiss you I want to kiss you Like you are better Than everything you’ve ever done You are I was there When the world inside your breastplate Spun natural disaster And sunshine Anvil remorse And sweet laughter When I held you Any of you And our worlds Vibrated a conversation only our souls could understand I was there And all we could speak was “LOVE” All we could speak was “Us”
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64
we used to be able to look around and fit in, we did it to survive, yeah it kept us alive, not wanting to be absorbed, we did not or lose our identity, we did not adopt the patterns, of the religious or prestigious, adaptation to a certain degree, if we could not win it, if we did not conquer it, if we traveled, as was our nature, we were reserved unless in the heat of battle or DUI, desiring* under** the influence,* we were womanizers and drunks, unless we were sailing or battling, eyes on the horizon and swords rattling, but don't lose sleep, we aren't cheap, no one can afford an army like ours nowadays, and truly we were more than an unruly mob, with helmets axes, swords and a thirst for pointed play, sharp wit and a bit of ****** and mayhem while we slay the hours, so... hand over your treasure, or your life we rob and drop it off before we get to Valhalla, you are not invited. ©ClemC072013
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 1:08 AM UTC
Disclaimer: Real Vikings don't do this anymore
I think it's safe to say unlock the safe with the key that you made and now your stuck giving smiley face to the DUI you got that in the pick your just breaking...dang! Simalar objects are now shaking at the things they didn't do but just look at the lies there making. Hard to say who was wrong to make the rights when every single one of us would of done the same wrong that seemed right with a life like yours.....right? If I could put my two cents in for this guy, Justin...just live life and always think twice. Public...listen to his life before any songs he writes.
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Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 2:12 AM UTC
JUSTIN BIEBER (Not a fan but a helping hand
He said "I'm moving to Ohio. Won't be long now. It's a thousand degrees inside of this train and all I got Is this coffee you gave me. See you're from this land With an office, and air conditioning. And a job. But all I got is this cup of coffee you gave me." I said "what's in Ohio?" He said "nothing. But here I lost $4,000 for smoking some **** Just a itty-bitty joint" Then he motioned with his fingers. No more than the scar on my elbow. "and that DUI." He adds Under his breath. "Yes ma'am. I'm moving to Ohio. One day I'll see you on the news and I'll say 'I know that girl. She gave me a free cup of coffee, iced.' And I'll be so proud of you. I'll say 'I met that girl in a thousand degree train'. Sure, Ohio ain't no L.A., But neither is this place."
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Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC
Free Cup of Coffee, Iced.
Percocet ******* Xanax OxyNEO And god knows what else. You keep telling me “I’m not high I swear! I’m just tired” But your lips are tinged blue, you have saliva in the creases of your mouth, your body is frail and sickly looking, your skin so white it’s almost transparent. Your eyes are swollen, glossy, and gaunt, your cheeks are sunken, your hair is tangled and unwashed. “I’m not high I swear!” But I don’t believe you. How many times have you said that to me only to confess later that you were, that you found a pill and didn’t have the self control not to take it. “I’m not high I swear” Yet you randomly smack your head, blurt out random words and nonsense, forget entire conversations, fall asleep mid sentence. You said you were clean. But the very next day I get a call telling me that you’ve been arrested for a DUI, you had Xanax and Oxyneos in your toxicology report. I’m afraid to answer my phone when it rings, I always fear it will be the call that tells me you’ve overdosed. You said “I don’t need to go to rehab, I can quit myself” But if that were true, you’d be clean by now. It’s been over a year since you told me you were addicted to pills. At first it was just a perc or two, and now you are a full blown opioid abuser. You’ve become the thing you hated most. An addict that can’t admit that they have a problem. “Im not high I swear” I can’t count how many times you’ve said that, how many times you lied to my face. So many times I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again. But I know I will, and I know I’ll go home and cry after and pray to god you wake up tomorrow. I just want my best friend back, the kind and honest loving girl you use to be. I’m tired of the you you’ve become. The girl that lies, that steals, that is wasting away. If only you never took that first pill.
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Feb 17, 2019
Feb 17, 2019 at 8:32 AM UTC
Pill Popper.
Percocet ******* Xanax OxyNEO And god knows what else. You keep telling me “I’m not high I swear! I’m just tired” But your lips are tinged blue, you have saliva in the creases of your mouth, your body is frail and sickly looking, your skin so white it’s almost transparent. Your eyes are swollen, glossy, and gaunt, your cheeks are sunken, your hair is tangled and unwashed. “I’m not high I swear!” But I don’t believe you. How many times have you said that to me only to confess later that you were, that you found a pill and didn’t have the self control not to take it. “I’m not high I swear” Yet you randomly smack your head, blurt out random words and nonsense, forget entire conversations, fall asleep mid sentence. You said you were clean. But the very next day I get a call telling me that you’ve been arrested for a DUI, you had Xanax and Oxyneos in your toxicology report. I’m afraid to answer my phone when it rings, I always fear it will be the call that tells me you’ve overdosed. You said “I don’t need to go to rehab, I can quit myself” But if that were true, you’d be clean by now. It’s been over a year since you told me you were addicted to pills. At first it was just a perc or two, and now you are a full blown opioid abuser. You’ve become the thing you hated most. An addict that can’t admit that they have a problem. “Im not high I swear” I can’t count how many times you’ve said that, how many times you lied to my face. So many times I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again. But I know I will, and I know I’ll go home and cry after and pray to god you wake up tomorrow. I just want my best friend back, the kind and honest loving girl you use to be. I’m tired of the you you’ve become. The girl that lies, that steals, that is wasting away. If only you never took that first pill.
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24
the Bus – Travels Through America’s Underbelly I am a bus rider That makes me unusual For a white male From an upper middle-class family Our people are not bus riders Though some are subway riders Bus riders are other people The poor, minorities, immigrants People who don’t drive Because they are blind Or have a DUI And in my case I don’t drive Because I have bad vision And bad coordination Just never got the hang Of the whole driving thing Fortunately for me My wife does the driving But I still take the bus From time to time I rode the AC buses in Berkeley As a child Line 67, line 51, line 43 F bus Rode them long before BART came along And afterwards as well As an adult seldom rode the bus But when I did so I was always impressed By the sheer diversity Of the bus riding population Hundreds of languages All sorts of ****** orientation Some were white Most were not Most of my fellow passengers Were nice enough Some were friendly And some were lost In their own thoughts And a few Were scary looking dudes With the look Of someone who had done time And were capable of more violence I also rode the bus In Seattle as a graduate student A lot of fellow UW students And the usual immigrants Minorities etc And some white people Commuting And in DC Over the years I rode a lot of buses Mostly to and from the metro But I got to know And love the DC buses as well I also took the greyhound bus Across the country Several times over the years All over the U.S. From Bay Area to Stockton From Bay Area to Clear Lake From Bay area to NYC NYC to DC All over the USA Taking the Greyhound Was always an adventure Met a lot of interesting people As people on long distant bus rides Tend to open up and talk To pass the time away Overseas I took the bus All over In India, in Barbados In Spain and in Korea The Korean buses For many years Were difficult for foreign visitors As the signs were all in Korean Most have signs Now in English, Chinese and Korean And are much more foreigner friendly Riding the bus In America Allows one access To the underbelly of American society The poor, the marginalized The immigrant communities That many middle class white people Just never see And for that reason I am glad That I am a bus rider
0
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 1:37 AM UTC
bus riding in AMerica's underbelly
the Bus – Travels Through America’s Underbelly I am a bus rider That makes me unusual For a white male From an upper middle-class family Our people are not bus riders Though some are subway riders Bus riders are other people The poor, minorities, immigrants People who don’t drive Because they are blind Or have a DUI And in my case I don’t drive Because I have bad vision And bad coordination Just never got the hang Of the whole driving thing Fortunately for me My wife does the driving But I still take the bus From time to time I rode the AC buses in Berkeley As a child Line 67, line 51, line 43 F bus Rode them long before BART came along And afterwards as well As an adult seldom rode the bus But when I did so I was always impressed By the sheer diversity Of the bus riding population Hundreds of languages All sorts of ****** orientation Some were white Most were not Most of my fellow passengers Were nice enough Some were friendly And some were lost In their own thoughts And a few Were scary looking dudes With the look Of someone who had done time And were capable of more violence I also rode the bus In Seattle as a graduate student A lot of fellow UW students And the usual immigrants Minorities etc And some white people Commuting And in DC Over the years I rode a lot of buses Mostly to and from the metro But I got to know And love the DC buses as well I also took the greyhound bus Across the country Several times over the years All over the U.S. From Bay Area to Stockton From Bay Area to Clear Lake From Bay area to NYC NYC to DC All over the USA Taking the Greyhound Was always an adventure Met a lot of interesting people As people on long distant bus rides Tend to open up and talk To pass the time away Overseas I took the bus All over In India, in Barbados In Spain and in Korea The Korean buses For many years Were difficult for foreign visitors As the signs were all in Korean Most have signs Now in English, Chinese and Korean And are much more foreigner friendly Riding the bus In America Allows one access To the underbelly of American society The poor, the marginalized The immigrant communities That many middle class white people Just never see And for that reason I am glad That I am a bus rider
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96
. D U I DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI D DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI D UI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI DUI
0
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 7:38 AM UTC
DUI ****
Remember when we were three? When we used to run around my backyard with our grass stained knees? Remember when we were six? We were attached at the hip, with our matching outfits and silly tricks Remember when we were nine? That summer we spent our days making sandcastles on the shoreline Remember when we were eleven? When my parents got divorced? I moved out of the neighborhood, and it seemed like you moved on from our friendship for good Remember when we were thirteen? When you started acting mean? You started ignoring me at school I guess that's when you started being "cool" Remember when we were fourteen? When you said I looked bulimic, with a disgusted look on your face Guess what, that was the case I could have used a friend, I wasn't well Your words hurt like hell Remember when we were fifteen? When you took that pregnancy test? To get boys to notice you you were always getting undressed I tried to ignore the rumors But they were about as glaring as a tumor Remember when we were seventeen? And you got that DUI? Because you decided to drive drunk and high I wanted to shake you I wanted to believe that it wasn't true That my best friend was now a stranger That she would do something so dumb, putting herself and others in danger I miss you I miss the girl you used to be The one who was so funny and carefree We used to be two peas in a pod But now when I see you things just feel odd When I'm with you I might as well be alone, but I guess that's part of us becoming grown Isn't it strange How people change?
0
Jul 15, 2013
Jul 15, 2013 at 1:00 AM UTC
Growing up and growing apart
Remember when we were three? When we used to run around my backyard with our grass stained knees? Remember when we were six? We were attached at the hip, with our matching outfits and silly tricks Remember when we were nine? That summer we spent our days making sandcastles on the shoreline Remember when we were eleven? When my parents got divorced? I moved out of the neighborhood, and it seemed like you moved on from our friendship for good Remember when we were thirteen? When you started acting mean? You started ignoring me at school I guess that's when you started being "cool" Remember when we were fourteen? When you said I looked bulimic, with a disgusted look on your face Guess what, that was the case I could have used a friend, I wasn't well Your words hurt like hell Remember when we were fifteen? When you took that pregnancy test? To get boys to notice you you were always getting undressed I tried to ignore the rumors But they were about as glaring as a tumor Remember when we were seventeen? And you got that DUI? Because you decided to drive drunk and high I wanted to shake you I wanted to believe that it wasn't true That my best friend was now a stranger That she would do something so dumb, putting herself and others in danger I miss you I miss the girl you used to be The one who was so funny and carefree We used to be two peas in a pod But now when I see you things just feel odd When I'm with you I might as well be alone, but I guess that's part of us becoming grown Isn't it strange How people change?
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38
You really don't think she's worthy of you? Okay you get good grades You've skipped a grade You won the spelling bee But are you smart? Okay she carries a 2.4 She got held back Okay she can't spell well But Is she dumb? You got Into a four year university She's going to community college You're now a lawyer She's now an artist You're rich and successful She's rich and successful You're getting a divorce She's getting married You lost your kids In court She's carrying her second child It's her 10th anniversary It's your 10th DUI meeting You're at your High school reunion She notices you You ask her If she's smart She says no She asks you If you're happy do you know what you said...............
0
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 9:25 AM UTC
Smart?
If you want a name you'll find it between the steps of ladders, like the bullet holes of wounded soldiers; a body riddled with questions rather than answers If you want a being you'll find something precious in the ugly, something beating, or eating it's way out of the chest; the imagination clumsily chooses a newborn alien, or a botched abortion But no, it's neither of these things, but it is... And that's okay If you want a poet, colored and racist, a dancer balanced and limbless, an actor, melodrama and actress They're all yours for the taking; Remind me of the woman who spoke of her vacation at the round table of a small town cafe; how she took a vacation to the rainforest, and had much to see; and how her crimson red shades matches the drapes; after all it's the time of the month and it lasts for days If you want a lover, you desire a well-lit cage; and that, my prisoner is okay.
0
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 1:55 AM UTC
Jian Dui
you live like the entire opposite of me blow herb like it grows indefinitely drink 40 oz until you can’t see you aren’t the scholar I imagine I’d be with the guy majoring in biology taking classes are nearly filled to capacity like my mind with this fantasy that isn’t reality – is it? because my guy is supposed to be involved in the community in school, working and paying his bills on time like you but you – you’re not him you just eat sleep work and repeat all over again sold herb on the side got money and then – realized you wanted something different a career and a girl but do you really want to be with a girl like me because being with a boy like you is scary to me i'm scared of me and you my guy is supposed to have graduated high school with a 4.0 and will go to graduate school with that diploma wrapped in blue and gold he'll hold me right and treat me right and write me poetry even though he's never set foot in a class like that like you but listen - you're different you just got out of court for a DUI it seems like your a party type of guy but that fact that you drink like UCSB frat boy worries me. i might fall for you because we talk so often when i meet you in the doorway will you have me at hello will i have you at hello the hell do i know i'm not sure how to end this because we haven't yet begun
0
Nov 9, 2010
Nov 9, 2010 at 8:04 PM UTC
Thinking too much
My going away party ended up with Garrison seizing and Hailey getting a DUI too much for one night I like a good time but not when people I love could die it hurt my heart I want to go home and sit as a family get a kiss from my dog visit Ingrid and hear her laugh grab some horchata then crash in my old bed lay down my weary head only to wake up and find myself here instead
0
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 1:36 PM UTC
Bye